


Love Bites

by clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, LADYBUG'S hot mess (wink wonk), Morning After, and we go back to sinning, how to react after figuring out that you finally managed to bang the love of your life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:30:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: Oh, was Adrien’s first thought when he woke up that morning,thatwas a good dream.Adrien's thoughts during the morning after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> the morning after what? i haven't written that yet. fml

_Oh_ , was Adrien’s first thought when he woke up that morning, _**that** was a good dream._

 _… **Really** good_, was his second, tinged with mild confusion and backing the tight, rough hum that escaped him on a sigh. He’d fallen asleep in his day clothes somehow, but even the scratch of the seams and the way his jeans were digging into his hips couldn’t put a damper on the buzz of languid pleasure that suffused him from head to toe.

His alarm went off in his pocket, something Adrien only distantly noted as he pulled it out and silenced it, head deliciously empty.

That had to have been some dream.

Every muscle in his body protested as he sat up, muscles he hadn’t known he had grumbling at their continued use. A faint impression of a laughing, trusting smile on Ladybug’s face as she rolled herself underneath him, thighs open to his hips and a gasp on her lips, flickered across his mind at the burn in his lower half.

Ah, that explained it. Granted, dirty dreams didn’t usually leave him feeling _this_ good, but there was a first time for everything.

Well that and it didn’t explain the soreness, but he must’ve slept oddly or something. It wasn’t worth worrying about.

In fact, nothing much at all felt worth worrying about as he padded, nearly purring, into his bathroom. Today was a good day. Today was _better_ than good, today was—

He caught sight of himself in the mirror, and paused.

There was something _off_ about the way he… looked…

His hair was disheveled beyond even Chat’s normal level of mess, his clothing rumpled from being slept in, and his neck…

His eyes fell onto his neck, and Adrien swallowed convulsively.

There was a bright red line of hickeys running from the hollow beneath his ear right down into his shirt collar.

( _Ladybug’s teeth against his throat and her hands running down his spine, peeling his suit away so she could reach more of his skin_ —)

Oh.

One shaking hand raised to gingerly press fingertips to the mark, reddened skin stinging under the touch in a way that made him feel like he’d stuck his fingers in an electrical socket, every hair on his body standing straight up.

_Oh._

He trailed his hands down further, following the line of scattered marks to his shirt collar and pulling it down in a jerk, then fumbling at his buttons with clumsy fingers when the line trailed further down still.

Oh, oh _god_.

That hadn’t been a dream.

His torso was painted with the brand of her mouth, a vivid memory behind each bite, and Adrien slammed his eyes shut, failing utterly to shut out the parade of images flashing before his eyes, stroking his skin, sitting on his tongue.

_That hadn’t been a dream._

Ladybug really had pulled him on top of her and moaned his name into his ear. She really had laughed, loud and breathless, when he blew a raspberry on her bare stomach. She really had tangled her fingers in his hair and kissed him senseless as they moved together, wrecked and broken and _completed_ as one.

It really was her he could still taste in his mouth, her hands that had left his hair a mess, the smear of lip gloss on his collarbone was _hers_.

He wasn’t sore and blissed out and walking on air because of any _dream_. 

He was sore and blissed out and walking on air because Ladybug had derailed the end of patrol for a round of ‘bonding’ that ended with them panting into each other’s mouths as sweat cooled on their bodies, had fucked him up so _good_ he was still floating in the afterglow twelve hours later.

He blinked at himself in the mirror, at the way he was clutching the edge of the vanity and the way his chest was heaving, grasping for air that suddenly just didn’t seem to be _there_ anymore, at his blown pupils and flushed face, and then let his gaze wander lower, to the burning, tingling, stinging hickeys branding all of him as _hers_ , and swallowed again.

_Holy shit._

That hadn’t been a dream.

And it was a good thing his next photoshoot wasn’t for another two weeks, because Ladybug had left him with all the proof he could ever want.

(And then he made the mistake of thinking, _what if it **wasn’t** two weeks away_, and then he was batting away fantasies of posing for the cameras with her _proof_ on full display to show the whole world to see that she’d claimed him.)

Shower.

He needed a shower.

A cold one.

(Maybe if it was cold enough he could make it through his first class without embarrassing himself.)


End file.
